Four Weeks
by SephiChan
Summary: Rufus x Tseng implication. Tseng has gotten himself in over his head without realizing it.
1. The Shower

I was inspired to write this recently, especially after realizing I haven't done any Turks fiction. I just liked the idea of it and tossed it around in my head for a few days. So. Here we go.  
There will be more to come.

* * *

The shower. _It always ends in the shower. _After all, it was the only way it seemed to rinse the foul stink of guilt and awkwardness from one's body. Rivulets carried worry and afterthought down the Turk's skin and finally washed into the drain. And even after scrubbing, he stood there thoughtfully, comprehending all that had happened—one hand rested under the shower nozzle and one on the back wall of the stall so that the heat rained down his back and long, dark hair. Four weeks of this already and he still had a hard time feeling clean in any manner afterwards. And so here he was, again. The shower. How cliché.

He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the scene related to dramas, horrors, or… pornographies. A tall, attractive man washing himself and lost in thought; such was Tseng's disposition but he didn't like it, not at all. From the office to the shower a bad taste lingered in his mouth that couldn't be dissipated until he slept. Even then, thoughts of what he had done, or what he had allowed to happen haunted his mind for days. Haunted him until it happened again and he had fresh thoughts to worry over.

Stepping out of the water's path and into the sauna that his penthouse bathroom had become, Tseng wrapped a soft towel around his waist but otherwise did not dry himself. His thick hair was sopping, dripping all over the tile floor. But this wasn't new, and he didn't care. He was preoccupied with other thoughts such as remembering when and why this had started.

It had, in fact, begun with a very drunk Rufus Shinra. Back then, he could pin the entire scenario on intoxication and not felt too awkward about it. The President's son had been so inebriated that he'd needed a bodyguard to help him to his own penthouse after his father's birthday affair. Everyone in the company knew Rufus to not favor his father, and the young man had been so ashamed to have to go that he had turned to the bottle to cure himself of recalling the event. And then came Heidegger, jovial with his own glass of scotch, who had ordered Tseng to escort the Vice President back to safety.

Tseng had never liked the executives, but he did as he was told. Always.

Being the sober one, the Turk had pulled the Vice President's prying hands from his suit countless times after getting him back to the penthouse, certain that he would eventually let Tseng leave and go to bed (or pass out). But he was pushy, selfish, and demanding, quite like his father, and before he was aware of what was happening, Rufus had conned the Turk into entering the abode farther and found that he was quickly losing articles of his uniform to the floor.

Nothing but force would have convinced Rufus to leave him alone, but he wasn't one to treat the man badly. His life also depended on his job, so to speak, and he would truly provide anything asked of him. So he hadn't fought. That had been his crucial mistake—giving in and letting go. Vice President Shinra was drunk anyway, so surely this would be a one time occurrence?

Back in that moment, it had seemed so likely, and then Tseng found himself in Rufus's shower washing the sweat and shame down the drain. He had his suit pressed first thing in the morning and reported to Heidegger early with falsified dignity. Yes, the Vice President was in one piece. Yes, he was currently sleeping off his hangover. And yes, Tseng would get on to his paperwork right away.

In a month's time, things had evolved. It was no longer drunken encounters. In fact, the second time, Rufus had been more than sober in inviting the Turk to his office for what was supposed to be a professional meeting. What had begun as civil had turned into sleazy fling in the dimly-lit room—a tangle of arms and legs and hair pulling atop the blonde's desk. Once more, surprise had taken the Turk like a whirlwind and he had been too submissive to stop it.

By this time, it was too late to end these episodes without things getting ugly. Rufus had something he wanted. He'd found a strong, discreet older man in a position he'd worked to get into (not one inherited like Rufus's own) that he could toss around and use. A man that would do as he was told without a word of backlash, who would quite literally bend over if asked and remain as stoic as possible even as he began to feel filthy inside. Rufus was high on the fumes of manipulation and pleasure. The only way out would be if he lost interest, or if Tseng lost his job… which would most likely cost him his life as well, knowing the company.

At this point, the Wutain had no choice. At this point, all he could do was bend to the will of his master and come when he was called. He played an obedient and discreet puppy. Not even the other Turks working for Tseng had caught a hint of the sordid affair. Not even the President suspected his son of such acts, but the man likely wouldn't have done anything if he did know.

It was entirely contained and entirely private. Rufus had the Turk in the palm of his hand, from which there was no escape. And while Tseng knew how wrong it all was, some part of him—certainly some twisted part of his mind long since warped by his past—_enjoyed_ it. This only made him feel more hideous and corrupt, and only chased him into the shower for longer and longer dances with soap and near-scalding water.

Tonight alone he'd been lost to the bathroom for at least half an hour. And then, it was time to get some rest. Rufus would be leaving for Junon on an emissary trip in the early hours of the morning, so the Turk would have his freedom for at least a few days.


	2. The Fool

Another chapter. It sort of feels like filler to me, but it DOES serve a purpose.  
More action and more interesting plot to come. For now, enjoy.

* * *

The day had been so long and the sun had taken its time setting so that even though it was the eve after Rufus's departure for Junon, it felt like it had been days. Days spent in the office that had really only been hours, blissfully yet tragically uninterrupted. And somehow after the tiresome work Tseng had ended up here, under the plate, in some back-alley trash heap. Glaring lights and loud music in the background, the stench of tobacco and vomit and sex mixed into a deadly cocktail in the stuffy club. Foul as it may have been, it touched some instinctual part of every man there and refused to let him leave. Still, this didn't suit the chief of the Turks and he began to question just how he had ended up here. When the woman on stage made eye contact, sliding her bra from her shoulders, Tseng took the opportunity to glance to the side, and was sorely reminded.

Reno.

He sat on the next barstool, grinning like a cat and completely taken in by the striptease. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but he was entertained. That's right. Reno frequented this place. He knew this girl—in what ways, Tseng didn't care to be informed. Apparently, when a man was feeling distressed, this place was the remedy. At least it was, according to Reno. Tseng had too much on his mind, and even if he liked strip clubs (which he certainly did not), this place was doing nothing for him.

Perturbed, he shifted on his stool to face Reno a little better, who finally realized his boss wasn't paying the girl any attention. The redhead probably would have frowned, would have given Tseng a hard time for spoiling the party, but he was having too good a time to bother with it. "Not helping?" he finally asked, that grin never fading even as he took a swig from the bottle in front of him.

"Not in the least," Tseng replied plainly. He needn't have said anything, though; it was plain from his expression and tense posture.

Reno just shrugged and rolled the words off his shoulders, as all the worry in the world could just be cast aside without a second thought. But Tseng's worry wasn't going away. "So what d'you want me to do, mister boss-man?" Cute. At least Reno _thought_ he was being cute. More so shades of carelessness and irresponsibility, Tseng thought.

He may as well seek advice though. Who better to talk to? Reno had proven time and time again that he knew sex and scandal like the back of his hand. Tseng chuckled silently under the boom of bass at the thought, recalling the time a woman had come to the Shinra building demanding to see the redhead; she'd been up in arms, claiming he was the father of her child or something equally ridiculous. Every little thing in Reno's mannerisms in denying the accusation had been so convincing even the woman herself left seeming at least a little swayed to believe him. There were reasons he was such an esteemed Turk.

Finally, Tseng let out with it: "Have you ever… had a relationship you couldn't get out of no matter what you did?" Idle Wutain fingers traced the rim of his beer bottle.

"Fuck, man, if you don't want her, I'll take her!" Presumptive of him, wasn't it? Reno took another swig and didn't seem to care. If the case was as easy as that, the redhead would likely give the mystery woman such an unbelievable night that she'd forget Tseng ever existed. If only the case was as easy as that.

The chief grumbled. "It's not like that…"

"OH, she's obsessive, is she?" Reno nodded as though he suddenly understood everything and extended an index finger towards Tseng. "Then run. Hide in your office or somewhere she won't find you. Don't call her. Don't look at her. Wait until she forgets you're around." He spoke so fast he was clearly drunker than his boss. And when the dancer neared the men, Reno even showed her an irritated frown to run her off so they could continue their conversation. "Hide in your office. And if she comes knockin' at Shinra, we just won't let her in." A smirk spread over Reno's lips and he took another drink.

That was just the problem. Funny enough that the Turk assumed the person Tseng spoke of was female, not to mention that his office was hardly a hiding place. It was the very location Rufus oftentimes fetched him from. He was ashamed to recall that they'd even engaged in their affair _in_ his office. Tseng rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his beer.

"Run and hide. Valiant, Reno." His words were flat, dry.

"Of course," came the reply without missing a beat.

Tseng pushed back his stool and stood. "Thanks anyway." Now he was just wasting time in an even sleazier place than he had previously feared to be.

"If you have ANY problems," Reno started up quickly, pointing again as though trying to keep his boss there long enough to hear him out, "you can ALWAYS talk to me," he assured drunkenly, though his smile said he was looking for blackmail material.

He sighed. "Right." The Turk chief pulled himself away from the bar counter and blocked out all sound around him as he left. His thoughts were once more immersed in the recent past. Reno was no help. He could attempt to turn to one of his other Turks, but… there was slim hope either of them would be of use. More likely than not, Tseng would have to get himself out of this mess alone.


End file.
